Gay

Keywords: Ch., Who, Cold, Boy, In, Came, from, 17, A, the,

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"It took all the anger out of me. I felt okay."

"Why would you do that?" the older man asked him, shaking his head slowly now. "You were still at school? This must have been years ago, right? Before you were on drugs... on the game?"

Rayne swallowed and turned his face away, suddenly pulling his arms back around himself, conscious of having said too much. It was like falling into a trap. He felt safe and he opened his mouth and then he realised that you could never tell people the whole story, because that was just asking for trouble. Ant was not going to be able to deal with the reasons why he cut and burned himself, just as he could not deal with Rayne's attitude to sex and relationships. He bit down hard on his lips and pushed his hands through his hair, trying to hide behind them.

"I'm stupid," he said flatly. "That's why."

"Someone hurt you?" Ant ventured, not side-tracked in the slightest.

"No. I just liked doing it. I liked scaring people. It felt good!" Rayne lifted his head defiantly.

"Stop closing the fucking door on me!" Ant grabbed him by the chin and pulled Rayne around to face him. "You have got some serious problems, kiddo. I'm trying to fucking help you but you're hard work! Now this week I'm gonna start by getting you off this shit you've been neutralising your brain with. And when we're done with that, you can start telling me exactly what it is that's made you into such a screwball. Okay?"

Rayne quivered in his grasp. He wanted to pull away, shouting and screaming until someone came and sedated him. That would be good right now. In that instant he was overwhelmed by the absolute hopelessness of his situation. Ant was right. He was a mess. He should get himself cleaned up but it was easier to take the junk and let other people make the rules for him. Nothing was ever going to change. He was an idiot if he believed that it could.

"Okay." He lowered his eyes and tried to look penitent. Something would come along. It always did.

"Seriously?" Ant was looking suspiciously at him now.

Rayne shrugged; "Whatever... you're the boss."

It was not so easy to give Ant the slip however. The older man watched him like a bird of prey hunting for vermin. He stayed with Rayne all the time. No privacy was permissible; even trips to the toilet were accompanied. Rayne yelled at him, and lashed out at him. He hurled abuse. He even threw up over Ant at one point when the shakes and the need and the absolute frustration overwhelmed him. The next few days were among the most horrendous of his short life.

Before long the itch of need gave way to a very real pain, deep in his muscles and his gut. The cramps ate him alive. It was like lying in a pool of cold bile whilst rats gnawed on his innards. When he reached a point where there was no positive effect in retching because his stomach was empty and he was just choking up the lining, he curled up on the floor of the bedroom and waited to die. He was sweating so much that the bedclothes got soaked the minute he lay down on them. He rolled off the bed. Within minutes the floor was too cold and he was struggling to get under cover but moments after wrapping himself in the duvet he was sweating again.

"I need something!" he pleaded. "Get Mahmoudi. Please, Ant! I'll do 'anything'!"

"You'll be all right," Ant promised him. "I'm watching you, Rayne. And there's nothing he can give you for the pain, in any case. You've seen to that, haven't you?"

"There is! He can... You are a fuckin' sadist!" Rayne screamed at him. "I hate you! I'm sick and I'm hurting and all you can do is torment me!"

Ant just shrugged his shoulders and looked away.

He lost track of the time. Someone was always watching him though. Each evening, Ant gently helped him through into the bathroom and let him use the toilet and get clean. A warm bath was the sweetest thing in the world. He let the water caress his sweaty skin and slumped under the surface until Ant got nervous and pulled him back up again.

"Idiot!" he muttered, shaking the water out of his hair, but the older man never berated him for it.

Later that night, Rayne woke from uneasy dreams, lying on his side with a pillow hugged against his aching belly, staring at a patch of rippling light reflected from one of the little porthole windows onto the wall. He thought that it looked like a huge eye filled with tears, ready to overflow and he wanted to cry with it. His body felt too heavy and he wished that there was a valve in his chest that he could turn on and off, releasing the pressure that weighed him down.

"Are you hungry?" a familiar voice asked and he shook his head, still staring at the big, sorrowful eye on the wall.

The speaker stirred and came around to crouch beside the bed looking back at him dejectedly. Aldo looked tired, he thought. There were dark rings under his eyes and he was huddled in a pair of faded jeans and a finely knitted sweater. It seemed strange to see him with clothes on.

"Where's Ant?" he asked numbly.

"He needed to get some rest. He's been sitting up with you for three days," the Italian told him, coming to perch on the edge of the bed. "I told him to take a bath and get his head down. Daniel and Terry are out at Isolde's club, it's quiet enough."

Rayne nodded distractedly. His stomach ached and he just wished it would stop. He was shaking almost incessantly.

"I didn't realise you were so bad," Aldo murmured, reaching over to stroke a wisp of hair back from his face.

Rayne pushed his hand away automatically.

"Don't touch me."

"I'm not the one doing this to you," Aldo said defensively.

"It's your fault!" Rayne croaked, refusing to even look at him. "I thought you were my friend. I thought I could trust you, but you're worse than any of them!"

"I don't know how you can say that," Aldo argued. "I was there for you. I came looking for you. I stood up to McNamara over you and I lost my job for you, so don't even start accusing me of treachery!"

Rayne's head turned smartly and his pale green eyes sought Aldo's face at once.

"He dumped you off the film?" the boy asked, shocked by this revelation. "Why?"

"Because... because I let you disappear that afternoon when Christophe..." Aldo swallowed, unable to complete the statement. He rubbed at his forehead as if it ached. "He told me not to come back unless I found you. I didn't find you in time. Now he's angry because you would not talk to the police... something to do with his insurance, I think. That's why they went to Marseilles, to talk to the money men."

"Arsehole!" Rayne muttered, shaking his head and huddling back beneath the duvet as he tried to stop his teeth chattering.

"Me or him?" Aldo wanted to know.

"B-b-both of you!"

"I thought you were in love with him," Aldo said coldly.

"I told you before and I'm telling you now, I was not and I am not in love with P J fuckin' McNamara!" Rayne felt his voice break and he hugged the pillow more tightly to his chest and belly, rocking himself furiously. "Why did you tell Ant what happened?"

For a moment Aldo was silent, then when Rayne uncurled enough to peer at him curiously, he let out a shuddering sigh.

"He thought that we did it to you," the Italian youth exhaled. "He really believed that we took turns with you then they sent me back with you once you were beyond... use."

Rayne closed his eyes and uttered a little huff of impotent disbelief.

"He is 'such' an idiot! I 'told' him that wasn't what happened!"

"You can imagine what P J would have done to him if he had gone around to the boat and started making such an accusation?" Aldo said wearily.

"Yeah... I can imagine." Rayne rolled slowly and cautiously onto his back. His spine felt as if it was trying to dig into his guts. He moaned involuntarily at the pain.

"Phil had already told me the truth," Aldo said in a quiet voice. "He did not promise to you that he would not tell me, only that he would say nothing to Ant or Paddy. He did not 'want' to tell me, Rayne. I made him do it. Then I told Ant because I did not want to see P J beat him to a pulp. He is a fool, but he does not deserve that."

"Don't talk about him like that. He's a better man than you," Rayne informed him in a low, warning tone.

Aldo shrugged and looked away. He was hugging himself as if he was cold.

"I went to the villa the other night," he said distantly.

"What villa?" Rayne tried to sit up but he was still shaking too much to make a proper job of it. At last he compromised by propping himself on one elbow. Already he was beginning to shiver again, even though it was a swelteringly warm night. He could not understand why Aldo felt cold though.

"The place where they took you when Christophe kidnapped you," Aldo elaborated, his eyes suddenly very dark and serious. "I went there and I hammered on the door until they let me in. I managed to land a good few punches on that bastard before his muscle boys pulled me off him. I wish I could have killed him with my bare hands!"

This time Rayne managed to sit upright. His head was pounding and he really did not feel well at all but he could not believe what he was hearing.

"You fucking maniac!" he yelped. "This is 'exactly' what I didn't want! 'This' is why I asked Phil to keep his mouth shut. You and Ant and P J, you're fuckin' testosterone driven lunatics! What did he do to you?"

Aldo looked somewhat abashed but he unfolded now and peeled off his sweater carefully. Rayne put a hand over his mouth, feeling the bile rise in his throat as the Italian uncovered the deep, raw stripes and vicious bruises on his back and torso. He had been whipped hard enough to draw blood, but they had not touched his face at all. Rayne swallowed hard, not sure whether to cry or throw up.
Slowly, slowly he started stroking in and out of her hungry cunt. His strokes were long and determined, each time getting that little bit deeper inside her. Her hands grabbed hold of his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh.

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Keywords: Ch., Who, Cold, Boy, In, Came, from, 17, A, the,